Watching Stars Die
by lydiamaartin
Summary: If he'd had to search the ends of the Earth for her, Teddy knows he would have found her. Because she's Victoire and he's Teddy and that's just how they work. - TeddyVictoire


**Disclaimer: Don't own anybody.**

**Written for Becca's 'Rule the World' challenge, and also for Beth's prompts – 'journey', 'jump', 'exhilarating', and 'blue'.

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**If he'd had to search the ends of the Earth for her, Teddy _knows_ he would have found her.

Because she's Victoire and he's Teddy and that's just how they _work_.

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He's on a beach somewhere along the coast of France and damned if he knows which one. All he can figure out is that it's deserted (maybe), it's peaceful (sorta), and it's beautiful (well, duh, it's France). The only sounds he can hear are the crackling of fires blazing atop torches along the shore and waves crashing gently onto the sand and winds twisting through the air.

It's almost like Mother Nature herself is sleeping – oh, but he knows that's not true, because she's sitting there (and isn't she supposed to be in hiding or something?), palms braced on the sand, head tilted up towards the moon and the stars, and she's possibly the most radiant thing he's ever seen and –

Oh, right. He had something to _do_ here.

"What are you doing here, Torie?" he asks once he's within hearing distance, his voice low and soft, not wanting to disturb the peace.

Victoire jumps, blue eyes wide as she turns to face him. For a second, she smiles and it lights up her face, but then it's gone, as quickly as the wind breezes through the beach. "Teddy! What are you doing here?"

Teddy grins. "I asked you first," he retorts, the remark stolen out of their childhood arguments, hair flashing bright turquoise in remembrance of those long-ago fairytale memories.

Victoire giggles. "I'm watching stars die."

He raises an eyebrow. "You might be the only girl who says that instead of 'watching the sun set'."

She shrugs. "It's France. I'm feeling poetic. I think it's your turn to answer."

"Right." Teddy runs a hand through his hair, suddenly inky black. "I'm looking for you."

Blue eyes, brighter than the ocean, glance sidelong at him. "Found me."

Her voice is light and innocent and teasing, as if she hadn't run away from home, as if her family wasn't scouring Britain for her, as if she hadn't caused him days of worry and panic, as if she hadn't just made him want to kiss her senseless, and, oh, this is _not good_ because she's his _best friend_ and this kind of stuff only happens in movies or fairytales or –

"My turn." Victoire turns away from the ocean waves and crosses her legs. "Are you going to force me home?"

Teddy swallows, knowing instinctively that his eyes are that special shade of silvery-gray that they always are around her – because that's his original eye color and Victoire just has this shine about her that brings out the worst (or is that the best?) in him.

"Not if you don't want me to."

She smiles, the expression easy and sweet, much more little-girl than the pretty, popular beauty she (part-Veela, utterly gorgeous, top of her class, _remember_?) is supposed to be. "Your turn, then."

"Oh, are we playing a game, then?" He doesn't find it strange at all that they're falling back into their old patterns, of childhood games and innocence. That's just _them_, y'know.

"I suppose so," Victoire answers, and behind her, waves crash to the shore. He wonders if she has any idea what she does to him.

"Why did you run away from home?" he fires off, inciting a sigh from her.

"You tell me," she answers, leaning back, ivory curls streaming down her shoulders like a fairytale princess – oh, but she's not, is she? "Maybe it was because I went to the May 2nd Gala this year and nobody wished me a happy birthday. Maybe it was because everyone expects me to become a Curse-Breaker, like my parents. Maybe it's because everyone expects me to ace my NEWTs in my sleep. Maybe it's because you _left_, Teddy, you _left_ and you went journeying the world with your _best friend_ and exotic food and exotic girls and, really, Teddy, what was I _supposed_ to do?"

There's something lodged in his throat.

All he seems to be capable of doing is staring at her, at this pretty little girl who was supposed to be just that – a _pretty little girl_ – and somehow, over sixteen years, became his _best friend_, a girl he _can't_ live without, a girl he'll go _crazy_ without, a girl who he might be _kindasortamaybe_ in love with.

"Torie," he whispers, the words sandpaper in his throat. "Torie, please come home."

Victoire looks away, determination blazing in those ocean-blue eyes of hers. "I can't. Not until I figure out who the hell I am and where I fit in this crazy world."

"That—that's not fair," Teddy stammers. "We miss you, we love you, _I_ miss you, I—"

No dice.

The words are stuck in his throat – _Iloveyou, Iloveyou, Iloveyou_ – but she's not _listening_ and this damned country seems like a terrible thing now, stealing her attention, her love, _Victoire_ from him, and he's never hated a country before, but he thinks he might want to start.

"Aunt Gabrielle and Uncle Dennis said I could stay with them as long as I need to," Victoire replies, voice soft, words harsh. "They're working on the paperwork to transfer me to Beauxbatons. I can sit my NEWTs here and finish out school and—"

"No," Teddy whispers, the word torn from his throat. "Please. Torie, _please_ don't do that. We all want you to come home."

He can almost _see_ her control snapping.

"Come home and do what?" she demands, exploding like a firework, dazzlingly bright against the backdrop of seas and midnight. "Come home and be the perfect daughter, pretty little part-Veela Victoire, who always looks beautiful and always gets outstanding grades and always gets the boy? Come home and be ignored on my _birthday_ just because some idiot eighteen years ago decided to murder a bunch of people? Come home and be told I'm selfish for wanting a cake and 'Happy Birthday' sung to me when I should be honoring the dead?"

She stops to catch her breath, and he thinks she's never looked prettier than she does right now.

"Come home and try to hide all my flaws because _that's what everyone expects_, Teddy?" Her voice is softer now, and the light in her blue eyes is dimming. "I can't do that. I'm sorry. I'm tired of being some picture-perfect doll. I'm _not_. I'm _human_. And nobody realizes that. Nobody pays atten—"

Without a second thought, Teddy leans over and kisses her.

Her rant fades, but her light reignites, and the taste of peppermint fills his mouth with a rush. She's light in his arms, molding to his body as if they were _made_ for each other (and he's not normally one to speak in clichés, but whatever), and her touch sends butterflies blazing in his insides and fire searing up his body. There's _fireworks_ and _magic_ and _dreams coming true_ and, oh, it's _everything_ he's ever imagined, exhilarating and burning and _magical_.

She draws back, blue eyes full of ocean dreams. "Teddy, I—"

"I won't leave you again," he promises fiercely, hugging her like he used to, hair turquoise and eyes grey in her (his) favorite combination. "Come home, Torie. Please. Do you want me to get down on my knees and beg or something?"

For the first time in what seems like forever, a genuine smile graces her face. "That would be nice."

Teddy laughs and leans down to kiss her again, and maybe it's not enough – she's got problems and he's got problems and they still need to sort them all out, because they're human and that's just what they _do_, after all.

But they're also _TeddyandVictoire_ and maybe this – them by the ocean under dying stars – really is enough.

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**Author's Notes: Yay, TeddyVictoire! =D I'm incredibly fond of this piece – I've had this plot bunny for a while now and I just wrote it down and I'm quite happy with it, to be honest. I really do hope you all are as well, and if you liked it, please drop me a review and tell me what you thought!**

**Oh, and please **_**don't**_** favorite without reviewing. Thanks!**


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